Dependability
by Cohen101
Summary: PreRent. Mark is the expectation to every rule Roger learned growing up. Mark Collins Roger. Rated T for some swears and mention of withdrawal. One-shot.


_For T;_

**Dependability **

I sit patiently at the table, watching Mark's figure on the couch, stare at him, telepathically attempt to wake him up using only brain waves. Collins is on the floor somewhere behind the couches, wherever he'd fallen after he stumbled into the loft at five in morning. He isn't my current concern- I know I can't con Collins into making me some food, so I refocus my attention on Mark's body.

The only good thing about going through withdrawal is Mark.

I swear to God, that is the only thing good about this hell of a life.

The itch, the burn, the sudden need that took over my body randomly, that drove me to do things which resulted in the fading black eye on Mark- it's all shit. It all fucking sucks. And it hurts. It really hurts. Everywhere.

And Mark is the only good thing.

I'm even sure, really deep down, if I want to be off heroin.

I mean, if I had to be dependent on something, I would much rather place my faith in a drug than in a person. People lie, people cheat and people are bad, and I didn't understand people. Drugs are simple to understand. Drugs are more reliable to me than people ever were…

Except for Mark. Mark is the expectation to every rule I learned growing up.

So I guess I could be dependent on Mark…

Mark's leg twitches and I smile. Mark is waking up now. He opens his eyes and stares at the roof of our loft as they adjusted to the conscious world. Then he frowns and turns his head, groaning s he sees me, or, at least, the blob of me,

"Fuck Roger," he mutters, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He stops for a moment.

"They're on the table behind you," I offer, never taking my eyes off him- I know what he's looking for; I'd taken his glasses off the night before.

Mark was really tired lately- and it was my fault. Taking his glasses off so he didn't crush them in his sleep, when he slept, was the least I could do.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asks and I shrug, shrinking a little as he comes closer to me. I know he's not going to hurt me, but its instinct, I guess.

"A couple hours maybe? I dunno." He stares at me oddly and I grin, "Sat here the entire time."

Right now I was in a place where I couldn't sleep. Sleep just wouldn't come. Even if I asked it to nicely, it would stay away for some reason. So when I couldn't sleep I would just watch Mark sleep. Take solace in the fact that Mark was at least sleeping.

"Staring at me," Mark stats dryly and even though it's a question I answer,

"Yep."

Mark shuffles past me, into the kitchen, and I look after him curiously, "Mark, you making breakfast?" I ask and Mark turns around, glaring at me,

"No."

I feign hurt, "Then who's going to make breakfast?"

Mark sighs, "Why don't you make it Roger?"

"Because…" I search for an answer in my mind, "I don't make breakfast Mark… I eat it." I give him a huge smile and he rolls his eyes, then turns around to hunt for something in our only cabinet.

His reply is muffled by his position, "Then you're not going to be eating today."

"Markie!" I whine, getting out of my seat and crashing into him. I wrap my arms tightly around his body.

"Roger!" he yells as he almost tumbles into the cabinet. "Get the fuck off me!" he orders, turning around and smacking me playfully in the head. "Make your own god-damn breakfast!"

"But it won't taste as good if you don't make it!" I insist scurrying back to the edge of the kitchen and out of Mark's swatting range.

"Stop being such a little kid," Mark mutters, glaring at me.

I always take what Mark says to heart. "If I start crying will you make breakfast?"

I just might not always take what he says in the right way.

"No," Mark answers shortly. He gets a chipped glass and takes it to the sink.

I grin and take a couple steps forward, "If I start hitting you will you make breakfast?"

Mark starts the water. "A child wouldn't hit me," he says as I punch him in the arm. "Ow!" he turns around and splashes some water at the back of me as I run away from him, hopping up on the table with a grin. "Fuck you," he glares.

If Mark was really angry, I would've stopped. I would've apologized and explained myself. I hate it when Mark's angry- but he's not. I know he's not. I don't know how I know, because he's pretty convincing right now, but I know.

"If I refuse to stop annoying you, will you make breakfast?"

Mark finishes washing the glass and he holds it under the sink, "You shouldn't have two negative connotations in a sentence Roger."

I realize that he's right and think for a moment. "If I annoy you enough, will you make breakfast?"

"Better," he smiles and I grin at the praise. I haven't had much of that lately- Mark always encourages me, and tells me I'm doing well, but Collins had caught me in the middle of prepping a four days ago and he was so angry I had to admit I was scared. I think he's starting to get impatient with me, and it doesn't take much to scare me these days. Collins' anger really did a number on me.

At least I could admit to it.

"And no," Mark finishes. My face falls, remembering that he's declining my request to make food, but I'm not discouraged.

"If I throw a temper tantrum will you make breakfast?" I asked and Mark sighs with another,

"No."

Now I'm really running out of ideas. "Really?" I ask and Mark nods,

"Yes."

I perk up, "Yes, you'll make breakfast?"

"Roger!" Mark's finally gotten riled up, "It's a bowl of cereal and watered down milk! Make it yourself and get out of my face!"

But he's not really angry. I know he's not really angry.

"What the fuck are you two boys doing bickering so early?"

I tense up, but when Collins pulls out a seat and pushes me across the table so I wasn't sitting in front of him, I know I can say, "Mark won't make me cereal," without him getting seriously mad at me.

"Make your own goddamn cereal you lazy bitch," Collins growls, and Mark laughs,

"Thank you!"

"Collins," I whine, "You were supposed to side with me!"

Collins buries his head in his hands, "You're not Mark's pony pal, you can feed yourself."

"But it's not the same if Mark doesn't do it," I insist and I can tell that the both of them are slowly starting to get annoyed with me. In Mark's case, that bodes well for me, and in Collins' case, not so well.

"You get a bowl. You pour in cereal. You pour in milk. You pour in water. You eat. What's there to be different?" Mark demands and I sigh, melodramatically,

"You have the perfect ratio of milk to water Mark. You can't deprive me of that, can you?"

"I can and I will," Mark vows, but I've almost got him cracked.

I get off the table and Mark looks at me, suspicious. "I'll steal your camera," I threaten.

Mark's eyes go wide for a moment before he calms. "No you won't," he scoffs confidently.

I feel my head cock to the side, "Why not?" Usually it works.

"You don't know where it is."

"Oh." There's that. "I'll… mess up your hair!" I threaten, taking a couple steps forward and Mark holds out the glass full of water like a weapon,

"Get away from me Roger!" he yells.

"Oh come on," I beg, "Please? Just this once? Please, I promise that I'll make my own tomorrow if you make me cereal today!"

"Fine," Mark caves and I whoop in joy, jumping up and down for a couple seconds. If only it was this easy when I was asking him for smack. I instantly feel guilty for thinking this.

"Mark!" Collins is looking at Mark in disbelief, "That's what he said yesterday!"

"I know," Mark mutters, getting two bowls. I sit down by Collins and start to smile because of the look he gives me, and then Mark,

"And the day before that."

"I know," Mark repeats.

"And all last week."

Again, Mark says, "I know."

"And you know he's going to do it again tomorrow morning, right?"

"I know," Mark nods, and I don't think I can smile any bigger.

"Okay," Collins hits the table, then stands up and gives me a look, "Just making sure you permanently lost your mind."

"As opposed to…?" Mark asks, pouring out the milk and water.

"Temporarily," Collins grins and Mark glares at him, coming over and setting the bowl and cereal in front of me. I pick up the spoon, feeling my stomach swimming around inside me.

"Go blow up a computer or something." I hear Mark say, and I swallow the nausea and take a bite.

I've got to admit, Mark's outdone himself this time.

"Gladly," Collins says, but I'm not really paying attention, "If Roger gets a toy for being good the rest of the day, call me."

I hear the loft door close and Mark says, "Collins! Roger, did you just hear him?"

"What?" I ask, looking around. Collins is gone and I feel a little bad for not saying good-bye to him. I like saying good-bye and hello to Mark and Collins when they come and go. I said hello to Collins last night as I covered him and part of the floor with a blanket, but there was no way I could move him and he was out cold. He probably didn't hear me.

"Never mind," Mark mutters, dipping his own spoon into his bowl.

I take another bite, "Damn this is good Mark. You should be a chef!"

Mark gives me a dubious look, "I think I'll pass."

"No," I maintain, "Seriously."

"Roger, making cereal doesn't really qualify me to be in a kitchen full of… knifes and fire and food and stuff, serving people what I make," Mark explains eloquently. "I might accidentally poison them."

"Oh," I scoff, "But I'm expendable."

"Yep," Mark grins.

"Thanks," I mutter sarcastically. Mark thinks this topic of conversation is over, but I'm not quite done yet. "But wouldn't that be so cool? You could teach me some cool knife tricks, Dude," I start getting excited, "We could both get knifes and juggle them back and forth and-"

"Roger?" Mark interrupts and I don't quite understand his tone so I stop talking,

"Yeah?"

"Don't chew with your mouth full," he reprimands and I glare at him,

"Why the fuck not."

"Because you didn't make breakfast," Mark smirks, "My breakfast, my rules."

It seems like a fair trade off for me- I store the bit of information for later. "Okay," I smile, "So you'll make me breakfast tomorrow if I don't chew with my mouth full?"

Mark opens his mouth to respond, but changes his words halfway, "You're impossible."

"But'cha love me," I declare with a wink.

Mark drinks the remainder of his breakfast before getting up. "Whatever," he mutters, "You do the dishes."

"Sure Markie," I smile. We both know that it's not going to happen. "Whatever."

_A/N: I know Roger's a little odd right now, but I'm messing around with a sort different side of him. The withdrawal he's talking about is not the one he begins Rent with. _

_I'm very bored. Classes have been suspended at my school because of a strike. There's literally nothing for me to do, and therefore- Rent stories galore! Hope you like them and give me inspiration for more!!! _


End file.
